


Promise of Home

by OmegaMan531



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmegaMan531/pseuds/OmegaMan531
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heading south during the Winter, Bran does what he can to keep himself and Meera motivated. Knowing that deep down, all they want is their family and home. Will contain some spoilers for throughout the books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise of Home

**Author's Note:**

> First story i've written. Couldn't get too serious in writing until Game of Thrones, which has hijacked my life and compelled me to write and finish my work.  
> Fourtunately for myself and everyone, I own nothing. GRRM is the genius it all belongs to.

** Bran **

He had long lost count of how many days it'd been since their departure from the cave where they had discovered the Children of the Forest and the last Greenseer. Their journey back towards the Wall was taking thrice as long as it had taken to get to the cave.

The wind cut through their clothes like butter, letting them feel exactly how powerful winter truly was. More often than not, he would warg into a raven or Summer while they made their trek through the snow. It allowed him to forget about his own discomforts while also making himself useful to scope out possible camping locations.

Coldhands led the party, walking like he didn't feel a single thing, which he didn't. Summer would follow at a distance, making sure to never lose track of the group but would disappear at varying lengths of time to hunt. Hodor carried Bran but seemed to move slower and more hunched over than he once did. Meera brought up the rear, hardly ever saying anything. Bran would find himself checking over his shoulder more often than not to make sure she still followed them.

It still hurt Bran to know they were one less companion now. He knew it hurt Meera far worse though.

Jojen had succumbed to a fever while Bran was still learning the secrets of the weirwoods from Bloodraven. Since that day, they all spoke less. Meera had become as silent and hard as a stone since Jojen died. Guilt still stabbed at Bran since his passing. The Reeds had done all this for him. He had tried to talk to Meera about it but couldn't muster the courage to do so. Even Hodor didn't 'hodor' as much as he used to.

They hadn't encountered any Wights or Others on their way back yet. "An ill sign," Coldhands had called it. Coldhands was once again escorting Bran, Hodor, Meera, and Summer through the harsh terrain beyond the Wall.

Once, Bran would've thought that it was a good thing that they hadn't seen any of the undead yet. He knew better now. Now, He knew it only meant one thing. They weren't this far north because they were moving south. The true war in Westeros was finally about to begin. The one that would be talked about for thousands of years. Of course...that would only be if they survived at all.

Their path back south was making slow progress because they only journeyed farther during the day. Bloodraven had warned them to never move during the night unless they had no other choice. Others and Wights weren't needed to make the terrain north of the Wall still deadly. Especially during winter. It was also very difficult to find game in the woods to feed them. Luckily, Summer would usually manage to find something before they went too long without food.

"There's a cave over the next hill going into the rocks. We should stop there for the night, the sun's already almost down." Bran said to Coldhands. It seemed to him that daylight only came out into the sky for a fraction of the time it used to.

"We should go further and take advantage of the daylight we still have left," Coldhands said without even turning around.

Bran could see Hodor shivering through his coats. When he went to wipe snow off his face, he realized he couldn't feel his fingers. He turned to see Meera slowly trudging behind them, hugging herself to keep warm, eyes downcast at her feet.

"No." Said Bran, using his best Lord voice he could muster in the freezing cold. "We've gone far enough today. We need to get warm. You may be fine but one of us is likely to die if we keep going." This time Coldhands did stop and take a look at each of them before finally nodding.

"Very well then."

They found the cave right where Bran had seen it with the raven and they all quickly shuffled inside. It was deep enough to let all of them have room and to block the wind from getting in. That didn't stop the uncomfortable chill from still creeping in though.

"I'll be keeping watch," Coldhands simply said before disappearing outside the cave. It had become routine for him to watch over them while they ate, slept, and waited for dawn to crawl across the sky again.

Meera created a fire so they could warm up and cook their food. Like every other night, though, they put the fire out once they were done cooking. They didn't dare take any chances leaving it up for too long.

They ate the last of the mammoth meat they had packed and carried from a dead mammoth they had crossed some days before. "Sleep Hodor, get your strength back," Bran told the giant.

"Hodor," came the expected response before the big man laid down and seemed to fall asleep immediately. Bran envied his ability to just go to sleep like that. Every night, he would lie awake in the cold for hours before he'd fall into some weirwood dream. Each night showed him something different and each morning he'd wake feeling just as tired as he was when he'd gone to sleep.

Bran dragged himself towards the cave wall and sat back, urging his senses to relax and succumb to sleep. The freezing temperature wouldn't let him relax though. All he could do was pull the furs closer around himself.

He could see the outline of Meera from across the cave. She generally had as much luck with sleep as he would. Bran would be able to see her toss and turn for hours most nights, not sure if it would be he who finally fell asleep first or her.

Winterfell and his family would always be on his mind most nights. Thinking about home was about the only alternative Bran would have when he couldn't or didn't want to sleep.

The ancestral home of the Starks. The heart of the North, both literally and figuratively. Remembering its glorious majesty all around. Bran used to like to think he saw and appreciated Winterfell more than his siblings did. He would climb and visit parts of the castle that noone normally ever visited anymore.

He'd remember his father. Always so serious and dutiful, yet was always kind and never faltered in his fatherly duties. The face that Bran would give his arms to see again. The face that he knew he would only ever glimpse again in the crypts beneath Winterfell.

His father had been the first one for Bran to sense was gone. His dreams and warging into Summer allowed to get feelings about his scattered family. He'd learned a long time ago to trust these feelings and to not put them off as fake.

It only made it harder on himself when he felt the others. Robb and Grey Wind were gone. He'd seen them in the crypts like he had his father. His mother, too, seemed cut off and could no longer feel her presence.

They had been since before he had gotten to Bloodraven's cave though. Bran had come to accept and handle their passing.

Jon was different. He was much more recent and his presence just seemed to fade away as his mother's had.

Pain and sadness washed over Bran with the revelation. It would mean that he was the oldest son of Eddard Stark and heir to the North. It meant that it should be his responsibility to rescue his family, rebuild their home, and right all of the wrongs against the North and his family.

Instead, here he was, in a cave north of the Wall. Doing nothing but trying not to die in the winter while the rest of his family _was_ dying. Rickon should be safe. Bran trusted Osha to look after his little brother and he had no doubt she would manage well.

Sansa and Arya worried Bran though. The last time he'd seen either of them was before his fall.

The last he'd heard about Sansa was that she was a hostage of the Lannisters, the same people who murdered his father and whom Robb went to war with. He could tell she was still alive though.

Arya as well, even though they hadn't even had word that Arya was a hostage and still alive. Her presence just felt very far away, farther than Rickon's and Sansa's. Bran was convinced the faint feeling was because of distance and not faintess of life. It would explain why they never heard word of her like Sansa. _Of course_ , thought Bran. _If anyone could escape the Lannisters and survive on their own, it would be Arya_.

The losses of his parents and older brothers hurt but Bran knew he could mourn them later. The presence of his little brother and sisters kept him motivated. Kept him hopeful that he could still do something in time. _Please_ , Bran prayed, _Hang on just awhile longer. I'm coming_.

Bran wasn't sure what Bran the Broken could do to save his family from the enemies that neither Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell or Robb Stark, Young Wolf and King of the North weren't able to do. Especially since Bran was neither king or lord.

But Broken or not, He was still Brandon Stark of Winterfell. The blood of the First Men flowed through his veins. He was a warg and soon to be the last Greenseer. He would sooner just die in this cave than to try absolutely nothing.

Darkness engulfed the sky and covered the cave like a blanket. He knew that near half the night had to have passed by now and yet he still remained awake. The deathly quiet of the night would always send a chill down Bran's spine. Only it wasn't deathly quiet anymore.

Across the cave, Bran could barely see Meera shaking. He thought she was just shivering at first until he started hearing the sniffles and realized she was crying. It sounded like she was trying her best to make as little sound as she could but by now, it haunted Bran's ears as if she were right next to him.

It hurt him more to see and hear her cry than any amount of pain inflicted on his body could. He may not be able to do anything for his siblings yet, but he could atleast try to comfort Meera.

"Meera," Bran whispered across the cave. it was quiet and he knew she would hear.

Her whole body seemed to tense and Bran realized she must've thought he was asleep. "You should be sleeping right now Bran."

"So should you."

He could hear her rolling over, probably to try and get a look at him. "Unless you're dead, a wolf, or Hodor, it's too cold to sleep."

Bran could agree with her but he doubted it was the cold keeping her awake. Then an idea popped into his head. "You're right, I'm freezing too. We should share our furs and body heat to help us sleep."

He thought she was going to refuse until he heard her getting up and moving across the cave. Then he could see her and get a look at her face. Even dirty, pale-blue from the cold, with puffy eyes from crying, she was still one of the most beautiful people Bran had ever seen.

Meera laid down next to him as he pushed himself off the wall and they both wrapped eachother in their furs.

It occured to Bran when Meera didn't try to fight him about sharing that she might not have much fight left in her. No real motivation. If Bran's senses were right, which he suspected were, both of his parents and older brothers were dead. But he still had Rickon, Sansa, and Arya to hold onto to keep himself moving every day. More so them than any Greenseer responsibility. Meera had only ever had Jojen and now even he was gone.

She settled back into her customary silence but continued to sniffle a little. He knew the point of their close proximity was to get warm and sleep but they were both quite cold still. Plus, he felt he had to say something to make her feel better."Meera...I'm sorry about Jojen." Probably not the best subject Bran realized too late.

"It wasn't your fault. He knew it would happen."

"Still...He died for me. It's not something I'll ever forget." They spoke in whispers. Whether they did so as to not disturb Hodor or because of the darkness around them, Bran couldn't say.

She had no answer for him and Bran cursed himself internally for bringing up Jojen as if talking about him would help her move past his death. "Meera, tell me about your home at Greywater Watch."

Her green eyes looked into his in mild surprise. "My home? Why would you want hear about that?"

_To help you remember your home. Of the parents who still wait for your return. To give you a sense of purpose to cling on to like I have_. "I'd like to hear about it. There are stories about almost every city in Westeros but the only things I've ever heard about Greywater Watch has been rumors or insults."

Her lips twitched in amusement. "You mean like Bog Devils and Frogeaters?"

"Yeah, but I want to know the real place. Everyone loves their home, I just want to hear you talk about it. Please?"

She laid there just looking like she was thinking for the right words. "Imagine the Wolfswood but much greener, half-underwater, and warmer. My father would often take me with him deep into the marshes. He'd show me all the animals that lived with us in the swamps and tell me how every animal has a purpose. He taught me how to use a spear, a bow, how to catch animals with my net, handle a boat..."

A smile had finally reached her face and Bran would do anything to make sure it stayed. "Go on," Bran urged her with a smile.

"Greywater Watch is not an actual castle. It's made to float on rafts, to blend in to the marshes all around, and to move in case of danger. The people also stick very close together. I remember my father hosting all of the other families and eating with them. My mother would brush my hair and tell me stories. And Jojen...I used to be jealous of him when I was little. He hadn't learned all the crafts that the crannogmen generally learned but he was gifted with the Greensight. Everyone, even my father, would listen to everything he'd have to say. People respected him like they would an elder. And, of course, he was my father's son and heir. Meanwhile, I was his daughter. I had to work hard to learn and earn appreciation from the others...or atleast, that's the way I used to look at it."

Meera's face seemed to get a little sad again and Bran was afraid she'd stop. Instead she continued, "I came to love my brother though. He would always understand how I was feeling and be there for me. I promised myself that I would always be there for him as well. That's why when he dreamed of you and convinced my father that he needed to go to Winterfell, I made sure that I was going with him so that I could look after him. I had never really left home before then, neither had Jojen. We looked at it like an adventure. To see the world, visit the famous Winterfell, and actually meet the Starks."

Her faced paused as a yawn broke across her face. Bran could tell that she was starting to get sleepy. Her face also seemed to get happier and sadder at the same time. "And we saw it. The Wolfswood, the mountains, Winterfell," She looked at him and smiled. "And of course, Prince Brandon and Prince Rickon Stark. An adventure of a lifetime. I just can't believe that I had once thought it'd just be one little adventure...Instead, Jojen will never go home again and probably neither will I."

The finality of the way she said that last statement near crushed Bran's heart. He knew that she truly believed she would never go home again. Finally Bran spoke,"You will go home again. I'll make sure that we both see our homes again. I promise."

Meera looked at him as if trying to see through him. To weigh the weight of his words it seemed. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep." She replied quietly. Yet her eyes said a different story. Her green eyes pierced through him with a sense of trust that gave him confidence.

"I don't. I'm not sure how long it will take us, I don't know what we can expect when we get there...but I promise you, Meera, we will go home. We'll see Winterfell again and you can show me Greywater Watch. You can show me everything your father used to show you. I'd like to see it all. I _promise_." Bran felt the need to stress the word to her. It was all he really had to offer her.

"You promise..." Bran could not tell if she was asking him or just repeating him.

"Yes, as a Stark of Winterfell, you have my word Meera Reed that we will go home." Bran could hear the sound of his voice getting stronger as he spoke.

A tear slowly started to make its way down Meera's face. Before Bran could use his hand to wipe it, though, suddenly her face was on his. Bran's heartbeat spiked as she kissed him. The kiss dulled his sense of time. He couldn't tell if it was short or long kiss. A lifetime within a moment Bran decided. One that he was disappointed could not last forever.

After, Meera just closed her eyes and snuggled a little closer before replying drowsily, "I believe you, my prince."

Once Bran got through his shock, he realized how warm he now was. The physical warmth was something he hadn't felt since before they had left the Children of the Forest, but there was another warmth too. One that he felt inside. He also realized once his eye lids were drooping how tired he was and felt it finally possible to sleep.

Bran made a vow that night that he wouldn't fail Meera or his family so long as he lived. He would sacrifice any dream, goal, or even his life if necessary. 

He was especially glad that no matter what though, he would be able to count on Meera to be there to help him. He had a feeling that Meera had a new purpose now, something to keep her motivated.

He gave her his promise of home. The same one he gave himself every night.


End file.
